


Dust Thou Art

by Gemmiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Holy Terror coda, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Season 9 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Holy Terror," Dean prays to Cas. MAJOR SPOILERS for 9.09, "Holy Terror."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust Thou Art

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little coda for 9.09. There is major angst in this one, and only a hint of romance.

“ _Cas._ ”

Dean wasn’t sure when he’d stopped whispering Kevin’s name. Probably when it finally sunk in that the kid was dead, and that there wasn’t any way to fix him. And it was all his fault. He’d let another person down, and this time it was a bright, terrific young man who’d deserved a full life, and instead had died horribly, right after Dean had said, “Trust me.”

The awful irony of it hit him like a two-by-four, and he couldn’t seem to struggle up off the floor. He just sat there, rocking back and forth, tears streaking his face, staring at the burnt-out eye sockets of a corpse that had once been his friend. For long moments—he didn’t know how long—he’d muttered, “Kevin, Kevin,” but eventually his thoughts had drifted to the one person he had left, and he’d whispered, “Cas.”

He’d gotten out of the habit of praying to Cas lately, because as a human Cas could no longer hear him. But when Cas had been an angel, he’d prayed to him all the time, telling him all the events that went on in his life, telling him _everything._ Now that Cas was an angel again, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to pray to him, even though when he'd talked to Cas on the phone, the angel had said, _It’s better I stay away._ He knew that if his need was great enough, Cas would come anyway. 

But his grief choked him, so that he couldn’t even form the words to tell Cas what had happened. All he could mutter, over and over again, was the angel's name.

There was the fluttering sound of wings, and then he heard footsteps hurrying toward him. “Dean?” Castiel said, his tone anxious, concerned, and then, “Oh, _Kevin._ ”

“The angel,” Dean choked out. 

“The one calling himself Ezekiel?” Cas bent and reached a hand out to Kevin’s cheek, then drew it back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dean. There’s nothing I can do.”

He’d known that, been aware that even an angel couldn’t reverse the results of another angel’s smiting, but it still hurt to have it confirmed. “The angel killed him,” he managed. “He says—he says Sam is gone too. And it’s my fault—all my fault—"

His voice broke, and he bowed his head. He was barely aware of Cas kneeling beside him, putting his arms around him. All he was aware of was the terrible ache of grief and guilt in his chest.

He buried his face in Cas’ shoulder, and let himself weep.

*****

Eventually Cas let go of him, and rose to his feet. He stood over Kevin’s empty body and intoned solemn-sounding words in both Latin, and a language Dean didn’t recognize. He supposed it was Enochian. He rose shakily to his own feet, recognizing that this was all the funeral service Kevin Tran was ever going to have. He listened to Cas’ deep voice speaking words he didn’t know, and choked back the tears that threatened to run down his face. 

At last Cas shifted to English and said, “For dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return.” He gestured, and Kevin’s remains vanished. Cas turned to Dean.

“He is interred,” he said solemnly, “in the most consecrated soil on this world, where the Garden of Eden once grew. His soul is bright and stainless, and has already gone on to Heaven. Grieve not, Dean Winchester, for he is reunited with his mother, and in the gardens of Heaven he has found peace.”

Dean’s eyes overflowed despite his best efforts, and his knees wobbled. Slowly, he began to collapse. Cas caught him as he fell, lifted like a child, and carried him toward his bedroom. Cas carried him up the staircase as if his weight were nothing—and since Cas had raised him from Hell, he supposed a flight of stairs wasn’t much of an obstacle for the angel—and placed him into his bed. 

Dean burrowed his head into the pillow, and fresh tears spilled out. This was the only place in the world he’d thought of as _home_ since he was a very young child. And now, without Sam and Kevin…

Well, it wasn’t home any longer.

Cas stroked his hair, as if he were a small child once again, and Dean felt the bed dip slightly as the angel sat next to him. “I am sorry,” he said, very softly. “There was nothing I could do for Kevin, but perhaps I can still save your brother. I will try, Dean.”

Dean reached up blindly and threaded his fingers through Castiel’s. “Don’ leave me,” he mumbled, embarrassed by his own neediness, but dreading being left alone in the enormous, empty bunker. "Let me go with you."

“I cannot allow that.” But Cas didn’t pull his hand away. “I am being hunted by both factions now. And besides that…” He blew out a breath in a very human-sounding sigh. “I stole another angel’s grace. As far as I know, that’s never been done before, and there may be… unforeseen consequences. I don’t know who I am right now. I am not certain I am entirely myself. I may not be... safe.”

“Please don't go,” Dean said softly. He opened his eyes and looked at Cas. “I _need_ you, Cas.”

Cas almost flinched at those words. He said hesitantly, “I’m such a mess…”

For the first time, Dean fully registered his appearance. Cas had said he’d been tortured, but there were no wounds visible. But he was filthy, and his shirt was covered in blood. He’d said he became a barbarian in order to escape, and while Dean wasn’t sure what that meant, it had obviously included some serious warfare. He frowned.

“Can’t you just mojo that off?”

Cas looked startled, as if he’d forgotten that one of the perks of being an angel was instant dry cleaning. He cocked his head, and instantly the dirt and blood vanished. His shirt gleamed white, with no trace of blood, and his skin was as clean as if he'd just stepped out of the shower.

“Stay,” Dean said.

“Just for a little while, perhaps." Cas stretched out next to him on the bed, gathering Dean into his arms. Dean pressed his face into Cas’ shoulder again, not crying, but still utterly shattered. He didn’t even care that this was more than a little gay. He desperately needed some human comfort right now.

Although Cas wasn’t human any longer. He remembered the words Cas had spoken. _Dust thou art_... but Cas wasn't dust. Stardust, maybe. Something different, something more, than any mere human. 

“Cas?” he mumbled against the other man’s shoulder. “Are you happy to be an angel again?”

He felt Cas’ sigh brush over his hair. “I am not certain, Dean. If I am going to help my brethren, then an angel I must be. But in many ways, I found being human more… satisfying.”

Despite his grief, Dean couldn’t help snorting at his phrasing a little. “Why, because you got to bang hot reapers?”

“Do not,” Cas said with lofty dignity, “be any more foolish than you have to be. You and I both know that event was not a pleasant one, and no matter how many times we try to downplay the situation with levity, it was not at all funny. I used a woman’s body without her consent, Dean. Even though I did not intend to do so, it was wrong, and April—the real April-- suffered because of it. That is one thing I sincerely regret about my time as a human.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “I know. But women in general—Nora—"

“Nora is a friend, Dean. That is all she is.” Cas paused for a long moment. “And you and I are friends. That is all we are, and all we can be, now. But when I was a human, I thought.. the two of us... perhaps…”

“Yeah.” Dean was too ground-down, too utterly miserable, to pretend. “Me too.”

“I wish… I truly wish...” Cas sighed into his hair again. “But I have a war to stop, Dean. Humans and angels alike are dying, and it’s my fault, because I’m the one who caused the angels to fall to begin with. I started this, and somehow, I must be the one to stop it. I cannot allow myself to become… distracted.”

“I know.” The hell of it was, Dean _did_ know. How many times had he put his work ahead of his personal life? Pretty much every time he’d had to make the choice. Oh, yeah, he understood that saving the world came ahead of just about everything else. But he didn't have to like it.

“I regret having to leave you here alone,” Cas said, his arms tightening around Dean, as if he could keep him safe in his embrace. “You have been alone far too often, and it is never good for you. But I will do my best to return your brother to you. This I promise.”

“Can’t you come back too?” Dean hated the way he sounded, like a whiny five-year-old. But he couldn't help it. He'd had to kick Cas out of the bunker months ago, thanks to the angel calling himself Ezekiel, and he'd missed his friend like crazy. He'd been without Cas quite enough lately. The thought of losing him again hurt like hell.

“I do not think I dare come here again,” Cas said, sounding just as unhappy about it as Dean did. “I will not bring the wrath of Heaven’s fallen down upon you, Dean. You are what matters most to me on Earth, and I will do everything within my power to keep you safe. That means I cannot be with you." He paused for a long moment, then spoke very softly. "But if you pray to me… be sure that I am listening.”

He brushed a light kiss over Dean’s forehead, and Dean fell instantly into a deep, dark slumber.

When he woke up again, he was alone.


End file.
